


senatoris

by Zekkass



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Assassination, Autobots win, Character Study, Execution, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Politics, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 06:29:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11685969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zekkass/pseuds/Zekkass
Summary: Shockwave avoids capture and execution but Megatron does not. In the wake of an Autobot victory the Decepticons can't come back from, Shockwave, and Longarm, must become something else.





	senatoris

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Insecuriosity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/gifts).



> My prompt was:
> 
> "I would like to see a Shockwave who made it to then end of the war without being exposed. The autobots still win, so Shockwave is left without a plan in hostile territory. When he confides in Blurr about feeling 'purposeless' now that the war is over, Blurr mentions that Longarm could try out for a position as a Senator.
> 
> Basically, a short piece foreshadowing the IDW Senator Shockwave in the TFA verse ;)"
> 
> And I took it and _ran!_ I love thinking about Cybertronian government and how it all works together, so this was a ton of fun to dig into. Thank you for the cool prompt!
> 
> I'd like to shout-out to arco for their help with thinking out the plot, and to everyone I wordwarred with! You all made this possible. :>
> 
>  
> 
> _bonus inspirational book recs:_  
>  Alexander of Macedon by Peter Green  
> The Reformation by Diarmaid Macculloch

A hand drops. The Magnus smiles a disgusting smirk, turning from the crowd to Megatron in chains. The warlord has been forced to his knees, his arms wrenched behind his back and held by multiple sets of stasis cuffs. His frame is battered, cracked, covered in nasty rents - yet his optics blaze, his mouth open in a silent snarl - they took his vocalizer earlier. There would be no final speeches for the fallen leader of the Decepticons.

Shockwave, Longarm Prime, cannot look away. He stands with the other Councilors, in their row of hovering pedestals that float over the crowd, fingers curled over the bars. There was nothing he could do to convince the increasingly unpopular Magnus that the execution could wait. There was nothing he could do to free Megatron, even if he had blown his cover and used all of the powers and influence at his disposal. There was _nothing_ he could have done in the face of Autobots triumphant and paranoid about losing their greatest prize a second time.

Here he stands, amongst the ranks of the most powerful mechs of Cybertron, utterly helpless to save his Lord as Sentinel Magnus uses a ceremonial set of tools to pry Megatron's chestplates open. Before the waiting optics of the crowd, Megatron's spark is exposed, seized, wrenched out of its chamber in a sickening pull.

Megatron's frame goes limp, then utterly still and silent. Gray washes over the few spots of color in his paint scheme.

Sentinel Magnus holds the fluttering spark aloft before the crowd, triumphant as he closes his massive hand.

Light flares from within, then vanishes.

//

Agent Blurr finds him in his office, standing in front of the window, optics on the flickering lights in the sky. His hands are clasped behind his back, grip tight enough to dent. The pain of it is delayed, waiting for him to let go.

"Longarm Prime sir?"

Ostensibly they are coworkers, master and subordinate, supervisor and agent - but the years have done their work, alongside Longarm's concerted efforts to bridge the gap their positions place between them. They are not _friends_ who can relax and share drinks and life stories with, but they are close enough that Longarm doesn't feel obligated to return to his desk, nor to talk of assignments and reports.

"Join me?" He asks instead, and Blurr does so, standing next to him before the window pane. When Longarm looks his optics are flicking from building to building before they shift up, studying the sky. Threat analysis, then contemplation.

The war is over. Has been for a long time. The startling new chapter is that now there is no possible chance of returning from this defeat. With Megatron alive, there had always been hope. Exile, an opportunity to rebuild, to capture the All-Spark, to one day claim Cybertron as theirs.

Now? Now there are a thousand and one petty leaders in the Decepticons, from Strika to Straxus to Astrotrain to others, all of them strong-willed, violent, and unwilling to bow to any leader - except for Megatron.

Who is dead. Who has left them a nest of snakes who will consume each other rather than unite and destroy their true opponents.

What is he to _do?_

"Come join the celebration sir it must be better than staying in here and thinking about the future," Blurr starts, and stops when Longarm looks at him. Whatever shows in Longarm's face must be too close to his inner thoughts, as Blurr takes an automatic step back.

Longarm regains control, letting go of his hands and letting the pain focus his thoughts. He raises a hand, palm out, to Blurr.

"I apologize," he says. "Agent Blurr, did you watch the Magnus during the execution?"

"Well yes sir he enjoyed it immensely far more than was appropriate if I may say so but he hasn't been a strictly appropriate Magnus so it's in line with his other behaviors why was there an attempt on his spark or some other problem I missed?"

"With the Decepticons scattered and unable to unite their forces, they will soon go extinct," Longarm says, repair systems slowly easing the pain as dents are carefully popped and smoothed from within. "And without a common foe for the Magnus to lead us against, his doctrine of fear will need a new target. Otherwise the populace will begin to notice how unpleasant his curfews are, the heightened security, the lack of luxury goods from out-systems. We weren't _in_ a full-scale war when he came to power, Agent Blurr...but forgive me. I'm lecturing you on things you already know."

"No sir please this is important," Blurr says. "I've been thinking about it too but there isn't anything we can do is there?"

Oh, Longarm knows Blurr. He knows that Blurr has already solved the situation in a hundred ways - but he's bound by the same restraints Longarm Prime is: they've sworn to protect and serve the Magnus, just as the Council has.

Fortunately for them both, Shockwave isn't bound by anything except a need to stay hidden - and without Megatron, his options have opened even further.

"Our only option is conspiracy," Longarm Prime says baldly, and Blurr's optics widen, then narrow - he'd never calculated this from his kind, gentle superior, and Longarm's well aware that with one sentence he's thrown Blurr's assessment of him into disarray. "Would you like to hear my reasoning?" An offering.

"Yes," Blurr says.

"Sentinel Magnus will lead us into war with aliens - emphasis on the plural. There must always be an enemy for us to face, or else he will lose his popularity, and we both know how drunk he is on applause."

"Xenophobic behaviors have increased dramatically since he became Magnus that's true," Blurr murmurs. "The Council will support war as well at least Perceptor will they have a lot of projects that need funding well they always need funding and any prizes we make of alien ships will of course go to them the only opponents will likely be Alpha Trion Botanica and you well perhaps we don't know if Sentinel will find a way to sway any of you not that he really acts as if he respects the council at all. Sir how do we handle this once we're done do we turn ourselves in?"

"Agent Blurr," Longarm says, putting his hands together. The room is sealed, secured so that no one can enter it or eavesdrop. Cliffjumper knows he's not to be disturbed without pinging his comms first. He is free to lay out his hand before Blurr and see if he can survive the aftermath. "I ask only one thing of you. Please don't arrest me or send what I have to say to anyone else until you've heard me out."

"Yes sir of course," Blurr says in that unnerving way he has of seeming as if he hasn't thought about his decision. It isn't disrespect, trust, or carelessness: he genuinely has thought out his actions.

"Thank you. Here are my plans: remove Sentinel Magnus, dispose of the office of Magnus - remove it outright, given how far it's come from its original use, and restore the Senate that used to rule Cybertron." The first risk: admitting to knowing history that was censored, controlled, and destroyed over the course of the wars with the Destrons and Decepticons both. There _aren't_ files on the previous governing structure of Cybertron in any available archives at his rank - and now, if they exist, they exist in Alpha Trion's vast databases.

Blurr hardly moves, giving away nothing. Longarm presses his hands closer together, letting Blurr see a display of nerves.

"The Magnus was an office put into power when the war with the Destrons became a matter of survival. The Senate was too slow and indecisive to handle the situation - and at the time it was riddled with corruption, as well. I think it's worth reviving, because another Magnus could - would - lead us back to this situation. Not...ahem...to mention how Ultra Magnus exacerbated the situation with the Decepticons."

"And who would organize this sir would you?"

"Alpha Trion," Longarm says immediately. "We would become a government ruled by two councils. I believe that's outlined, but only Alpha Trion would have the details of how it used to work."

A minute movement in Blurr's shoulders indicates a release of tension. Shockwave can guess at how he reads the situation: Longarm Prime will not seek more power, instead intending to further shackle the government so that it can't be corrupted. Which puts his motives into a benevolent light, and the fate of the Magnus is all but fait accompli.

"When do we start sir?"

"Keeping in mind that I need you with me," Longarm Prime says with a tense smile, "The Magnus must be dealt with. I will visit Alpha Trion personally; if it goes poorly my files are arranged so that Cliffjumper can pick up where I left off."

Blurr nods, saluting Longarm Prime.

"It has been an honor serving with your sir."

//

Blurr's thoughts run in multiple lines as he runs through the Magnus' celebratory banquet, his only detectable presence a gentle breeze in the overheated rooms. Dozens of mechs are here to schmooze and dance and drink high-grade and compliment the Magnus in the hopes that personal favor will elevate them in society as he so often responses well to praise promotions soon follow it's an obvious pattern so easily exploited it's a marvel Sentinel Magnus got anywhere at all given how easy he is to manipulate. His arrogance has driven away any skilled mechs who possess even an ounce of pride leaving only those who are power-hungry or else patient. Blurr knows all of them all of their files all of their habits and he knows this place having attended parties here before at Longarm Prime's side and really it's almost inappropriate the way Longarm singled him out for escort duty over Cliffjumper given that one of them will be promoted to hold Longarm's rank if he ever leaves but then again it's worked out no one batted an optic at spotting him at these parties and now he can navigate them at ease at top speed.

The guards and dancers and partygoers all move in easy to read patterns, telegraphing their movements long before they make them making it easy to weave paths through crowds and into the Magnus' immediate vicinity. Termination is simple at this point an explosive a weapon a few cut cables but Blurr knows what the best method will be and that is poison a needle dipped into the ornate cube the Magnus is using and then he's away. It's keyed to only affect the Magnus' frametype so even if the poor decorative mech hanging off of the Magnus' arm has a drink it won't harm them and whenever the medics detect it they'll know that this poison comes from Cybertron by Cybertronians meant for Cybertronians making it difficult to pin this on the Decepticons this assassination has to be seen as a job from within lest anyone turn him into a martyr, an excuse to go to war.

That might happen anyways but Blurr trusts Longarm Prime to be a cunning mech who can manipulate the situation into what would be best for himself and at the moment it looks and sounds like his motives would put Cybertron into a better place and there's another question why did Megatron's termination bother him so much why would that be the action that prompts him to aim for execution it's confusing because if Longarm had been some kind of compromised or undercover agent you would think he would act before Megatron was gone but that doesn't mean he isn't compromised just not loyal to the Decepticons it's difficult to tell the layers of deception run deep here of course - Blurr shoots out of the party and doesn't slow down until he's back into the Intelligence Agency's track, on familiar ground as he bends over and pants harshly, the speed taking its toll on his systems.

He jogs slowly to the nearest dispenser and downs what he can, thoughts dancing to poison and back as he recovers and Longarm Prime will have to be told of course but he's probably still in conference with Alpha Trion and it wouldn't be wise to interrupt that.

Blurr wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, tips his head back, and ex-vents, finally slowing down.

//

"You can't quit!" The first words out of his lips are pure reflex as he rises to his pedes, slamming his hands on his desk, making unfiled datapads jump. _He hates Longarm Prime._

"But," Longarm Prime says, raising his hands in a submissive gesture, "Cliffjumper, it's already been arranged." His frame is gleaming with his new optic-searing paintjob: white, ugly green, pale blue. He looks like a walking advertisement for some kind of exotic organic cruise, and with that idiotic smile Cliffjumper half expects to be handed a flier and a coupon any klik now.

"I don't fragging care," Cliffjumper says. "You are _not_ running away to leave _me_ with the investigation of the _Magnus' assassination_ in my lap!"

"Start with the details, and be aware of the political situation," Longarm says serenely, optics half closing. His jewel looks out of place in his new color scheme, the red harsh and glaring.

"You're quitting over my cold offlined frame," Cliffjumper says, gritting his dentae. "I am not letting you get away with this."

"With what, precisely?" Longarm asks, lacing his hands together. Cliffjumper hates how familiar this feels: Longarm asking for details, calm as ever, while his own vision turns red. Somehow he's never crossed the desk and killed Longarm with his rage, but _this might be the day._

"You know what! You're _good_ here, let some other idiots take over the second council - "

"Senate."

_"I don't fragging care what it's called!"_

"I do," Longarm says, stepping closer to the desk, optics shifting from lazy observation to narrowed focus. Somehow he's _menacing,_ the jewel somehow brighter. "I care very much what it's called, Cliffjumper. Cybertron is finally restoring one of its hallowed institutions to power and leaving wartime government behind. This has been too long in the making, and I will not stand idly by while a collection of _civilians_ fumble their way into power." His voice is a low growl, almost _familiar_ and warning bells are going off in Cliffjumper's processors.

Longarm steps back, visibly resettles himself, and turns that innocent smile back on.

"Cliffjumper, this is important to me. I've left you with total control of a well-functioning machine, and I know your integrity is impeccable: you'll use your position to defend Cybertron from within and without, and you don't have any patience with corruption. I think we can both agree that your control over your temper is better, as well."

A patronizing compliment, meant to distract. Cliffjumper growls, unwilling to accept any of those compliments when it doesn't change the facts: Longarm's leaving to go showboat, and what's this slag about being aware of the political situation?

"Fine. Frag. _Senators_ spend their days giving speeches and doing the work the Council does, but slower. Don't _lie_ to me, Longarm. This is about getting out of the hotseat and leaving me to suffer."

"Would I lie to you?"

Ordinarily Cliffjumper would growl, maybe laugh about this, maybe stare at Longarm. Ordinarily it would be just another quip in their ongoing arguments.

Here and now it throws something Cliffjumper's been chewing on into stark relief.

Longarm has never been afraid of facing failure, and putting on a brave face when he reports to the Council. It's part of the skillset that's made him a worthy successor to Highbrow. Longarm's not running from incoming acid rain, he's anticipating it, and - what?

If he did it, why isn't he determined to stay where he is and guide the investigation to pick the perfect culprit? It's not a secret that Longarm disapproved of Sentinel Magnus, and Cliffjumper wouldn't put it past him to arrange that assassination, but there's something _missing._

"Yes," he says slowly. "What's really going on?"

"Everything is exactly as it seems," Longarm assures him, optics bright and honest. "I am leaving, and Agent Blurr has been reassigned to myself as part of my new staff and bodyguard. The Senate is a crucial part of Cybertron's government - "

"You're _taking Blurr?"_

Somehow he hasn't jumped over the desk already. Cliffjumper fights for control. Of _course_ the fragger is taking Blurr. Of _course!_

"Yes?"

This is familiar ground.

"You can't keep assigning him to yourself. He's too valuable for that! Blurr's an experienced field agent - he's a better agent than _you_ are! You can't take him, Longarm!"

Longarm shakes his head. "It's already been done."

And there won't be any way for Cliffjumper to transfer him back. But. But. Here's another piece sliding into place.

The discreet way to confirm his suspicions would be to go and look up the powers given to any individual senators, but he doesn't have to. He _knows_ there's some underhanded privileges given to figures that powerful.

"The enforcers can't touch Blurr if he's attached to you," Cliffjumper challenges, pointing at Longarm, wishing he were pointing a blaster instead.

"Evidence," Longarm answers, confirming it all. "Trust me, Cliffjumper. The Senate will be more important than you realize, and you're perfectly suited for my old job. You can even call me up to discuss cases!"

He's smiling again.

And Cliffjumper's stuck, because, frag him, Longarm's right: without evidence he has nothing. With evidence - he doesn't even know if he could use it. He hates Longarm, but he can't leap the desk and kill him, even though he _could._

Because Longarm has never been a fool, and getting rid of Sentinel Magnus really was a good idea.

"I hate you." Cliffjumper tells him, lowering his hand, releasing his fists.

"I will miss you," Longarm says, stepping up to the desk, touching his shoulder. "You are one of my best friends, Cliffjumper. Good luck."

Before Cliffjumper can get over his shock - since when does Longarm consider him a friend and not a plaything? - Longarm's gone.

//

Longarm Prime steadies himself, appraising his new-old appearance in the mirror one more time. It won't be long before he's gone to join the rest of his fellows, pretending he's not familiar with walking these ancient halls and holding meetings in this hallowed format. Oh, it's not precisely the same - this is a new building, hastily constructed for the occasion. The old one was razed after the empty frames of his former coworkers had been removed. The format isn't precise, either - but it will do.

Oh, it will do. Longarm runs a hand down his front, savoring the frisson of pleasure the situation brings him. Nostalgia, grief, happiness - Lord Megatron is dead, Long May He Reign. The Decepticons are effectively powerless, the oath he swore burnt to ashes. If, by some freak stroke of luck he is wrong, and Lord Megatron returns - he has upheld their ideals to the best of his ability.

The Magnus is dead. Cybertron is safe. Senates are notoriously inefficient at handling crises - even with the Council they won't be able to handle a resurgent Decepticon force. The simple fact that they transform as a fact of life, and their government should be able to mimic that function without becoming stuck in the warlike configuration.

Alpha Trion had responded to _that_ argument.

That - had been a difficult conversation. It's difficult to be sure that Alpha Trion hasn't formed suspicions about him. For now, at least, that problem belongs with Cliffjumper: off the table. Put to the side until he needs to address it. And he has the assassin and collaborator working directly for him.

It is a total victory, one that he wishes he could have handed to Lord Megatron.

Guilt reflects in his faux-optics, the mirror suddenly accusing before he turns his head, then looks back, expression perfectly controlled.

"Alright," he murmurs. Enough reflection. He can enjoy his old colors once more - he has no excuse for choosing them, other than intense nostalgia, and the trust that anyone who could recognize them wouldn't suspect former construction-bot Longarm of somehow secretly being the old hoary Senator.

Another secret: the configuration for these colors never left him. He didn't have to pull up old memories to find the precise codes for the shades, or consult any databases. All he had to do was initiate control over his nanites, and instead of the program he'd hoped to use - his whites, purples and blacks - he chose this older, familiar configuration.

He glances at the door, then dismisses the idea before it can form. Transforming here out of vanity would be sheer folly. Blurr would come inside, or another servant, something he couldn't anticipate, just to spit in his happiness.

Instead he leaves the mirror, sips the dregs of a near empty energon cube he left on a table, and leaves.

It's time to become what he once was, and enjoy the show.

//

"Thank you for waiting, Blurr," Longarm says outside the door, falling into step with him. "I confess to nerves."

"That's understandable sir this isn't like speaking for the Council is it? There's a larger audience and it's being recorded and of course you have to give a speech that is prepared correct?"

"Of course," Longarm says, lying through his dentae. He catches Blurr's knowing look. "It can't be more difficult than a briefing. Facts, reassurances, and... well, a hint of bombastic promises."

"But not too many we don't want to get ahead of ourselves. The Senate isn't a replacement for the High Council of course even if the Magnus did have opinions about that we aren't going to emulate him!"

"Are you planning to become a Senator, too?"

Blurr flushes bright pink, looking to the side. "Excuse me sir."

"You're more than excused. I'm excited too." Longarm smiles at him when he looks back at him, reassuring and warm. Blurr is a welcome presence, a reminder that he's not standing in the past.

The hallway has shifted architectural styles now, from solid walls to columns that let the starlight shine in. They seem brighter than usual, a symptom of his excitement - and through the final columns there lies the Senate itself.

A hexagonal floor where speakers can speak and be heard, rows of benches and tables where they sit, a round structure that has no space for a leader. Already there are mechs in their seats - he spots several nobles from their Towers, rich mechs who own businesses, others. If they aren't rich, they represent groups of mechs, union leaders, representatives from other cities, token officers from the Guard.

He's here as an Intelligence Agent, one familiar with that all-important field. In exchange he's abandoned his post, left behind the High Council.

 _This_ is his home.

"Sir," Blurr says from beside him. "Sir," he repeats, and Longarm pulls himself from his reverie. They're standing at the threshold.

"Yes?"

"We part ways here, sir. Good luck."

"Thank you," Longarm says, and his smile is radiant.

//

Blurr watches the speeches, the discussions, the voting with an outwardly detached air, hardly moving. He's standing with the ranks of guards, other mechs who have been brought to defend their masters, and in time they'll have a system figured out so they all agree on how to best guard their charges.

For now it's crude but effective, and he rotates at turns to patrol the area, careful to arrange matters so he can be there when Longarm gives any speeches, talks for any length of time.

Longarm Prime is clearly in his element, dazzling to watch in his new - attractive - paint scheme as he's so clearly enthusiastic about whatever the topic is, whether it's the refusal of new tolls on the inter-city highways or the necessity of sanctioning goods from Quintessa. He speaks as if he were trained for it, and that's another suspicious piece that Blurr plays with as he watches him, but whatever it means he's not sure it's worth acting on.

After all everything Longarm's done has been for Cybertron's security even Sentinel Magnus was necessary and oh Blurr thinks about that sometimes it was just a job but it doesn't scare off the nightmares sometimes of being thrown in the stockades but that's never been his concern he's supposed to obey his mission and accept that if necessary he'll take a fall to protect a superior that's the way of the Intelligence Agency. Longarm hasn't said anything but there's no way he'll sacrifice him now it's easy to trust Longarm, almost too easy, but his actions speak louder than anything they haven't said.

As a Senator Longarm's clearly happy but in a crowd there are others who argue with him and eloquently and he doesn't win every round and Blurr has to wonder if it's all intentional or not but honestly it's hard to say that Longarm could be _that_ skilled. With time he'll come to know for sure.

No the most suspicious piece about Longarm is how a cloud of grief has left him - one that descended when Megatron was executed and that clearly was the tipping point and it would have made more sense to act sooner when Megatron was captured - but how does this fit with Decepticon interests what does it mean? 

Blurr doesn't know - but again, answers or no answers there's nothing to act on when Longarm is happy and obviously advancing Cybertron's safety and prosperity and of course he'll intervene if Longarm starts advocating for anything that could be construed as pro-Decepticon or otherwise dangerous that's part of why he accepted the job, so he could be there to watch and check that none of the Senators turn corrupt he hopes Cliffjumper Prime appreciates his intended reports. 

He hopes Cliffjumper Prime appreciates these saved visuals too because this isn't the Longarm they knew in the office and he deserves to see it. 

Whatever proceeds from here - Blurr's satisfied. 


End file.
